


Voice on the Radio

by chronoturner



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Awkward Dates, M/M, Urban Magic Yogs, kirin wants to fuck a radio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4856873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronoturner/pseuds/chronoturner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was in July when he heard his voice for the first time. The sixteenth of July, to be exact."</p><p>The almighty Sidhe Lord Kirin was working in his plant shop one day when he heard it.</p><p>(might continue this idk)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was in July when he heard his voice for the first time. The sixteenth of July, to be exact.

Kirin was preparing to open his small gardening shop, making a point to restock on any packets of seeds of both the average and the occult kind. Kirin was keen to attract all sorts of customer’s after all. The fact he was the only gardening-related shop in the city, somehow, also helped greatly. The radio was playing on the background, for Kirin liked listening to music while working.

“Hello, my name is William Strife, and you are listening to Radio 7,” he said. Kirin stopped dead in his tracks. The voice was deep, smooth, pleasant. It was the kind of voice which you would want to listen to.

After a few seconds, Kirin became suspicious of this ‘William Strife’. Few could distract Kirin, and even fewer could make him feel glad for it. He began thinking of possible explanations. Perhaps this Strife was a powerful siren, or a witch. Kirin frowned, however continued listening to Strife.

“-one more found dead near the sewers yesterday evening. The victim appeared to have drowned, however signs of trauma along the chest and left arm may perhaps lead to something more. The victim has not yet been identified. We hope whoever did this will be caught.”

Kirin listened intently, listening every day from that day on.

He felt himself drawn to the voice of William Strife, thinking of the voice of William Strife, the deep voice, imagining how this William Strife looked like, how he acted, his voice and his face and his clothes and his _moans._

He felt himself enamoured with the thought of William Strife. Kirin, all-powerful sidhe lord of the city, felt himself lost in this person speaking of the things happening in the city, from a completely normal, _human_ perspective.

He felt himself thirsting for a look of Strife. He wondered if every person he passed on the street was Strife. He was _obsessed_ with Strife.

Yet the mystery. It enhanced Strife. It made him all the more appealing, not knowing who he was. A blank face, yet the voice. The voice was what he _desired_. He didn’t care who was behind it. Anybody who could sound like him was enough.

Eventually, he managed to send a mail to the radio station, after much investigating. It was a simple thing, a fan mail, not hinting at all on Kirin’s real feelings.

Strife read it out loud on the radio. He commented on Kirin’s handwriting, elegant, clear. He chuckled at the compliments about his voice. Kirin felt himself red and warm when he heard Strife read it.

The next one was an invitation. An invitation, to a café. Kirin would meet the one whose voice he so admired. Strife did not read that one out loud on the radio.

Kirin set up the meeting at the Caffè del Grembo, or Café of the Womb, a coffee shop run on neutral ground by a human very invested in keeping neutrality, for extra money. Kirin didn’t like the man, but he served good coffee.

Kirin sat outside of the Italian shop, with it’s frilly décor and fake palm trees. He twiddled his thumbs, waiting for the voice, Strife, to arrive. He felt his heart beating, something he didn’t feel normally. It was unnerving.

Then, he heard it. A voice from behind him.

“ _Mr. Kirin?_ ” he said, and Kirin felt all his nervousness melt away.


	2. At the Café

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward dates ensue!

Strife was smaller than he’d have imagined he would’ve been, was the first thing which struck out to Kirin. But then again, everybody was smaller than Kirin, so it wasn’t much of a surprise.

“Strife,” Kirin said, his heart skipping a beat. He smiled lightly as he saw Strife take a seat in front of him, the fae trying to keep his calm.

“I received your invitation to this…place,” Strife said, looking about slightly, ats the faces of glamoured fae casually sipping on their coffee around him. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.”

“It isn’t exactly the most well-known of cafés,” Kirin said gently, smiling sweetly, as he handed the menu to Strife. Kirin had already ordered his drink.

“I’m more of a Starbucks person myself,” Strife responded, smiling as he took the menu.

As Strife read the menu, Kirin took a moment to admire his face. An angular jaw, slightly pointed ears, gorgeous green eyes, a slight hint of freckles along his cheeks and blonde hair, neatly trimmed and cut to create a sense of professionalism. Kirin’s eyes wandered down, admiring his _date’s_ – oh, he _liked_ calling Strife that – lithe frame and delicate looking hands. He deflected his look to somewhere else when Strife decided what he wanted to order.

A waitress came and went, taking Strife’s order of a simple cappuccino, Kirin told Strife he would pay, and his date agreed. The two sat in an awkward silence for a while, with both of them looking at each other.

“So.” Strife spoke after a while, trying to break the awkward silence, “What do you do for a living?”

“I run a gardening shop, the Ram’s Meadow,” he smiled, thinking slightly back to the time when he had first heard the voice of William Strife. And now he was meeting him, in the flesh.

“Now it’s my turn to ask a question,” Kirin chuckled, deflecting his eyes but quickly taking a look at Strife to see if he was okay with this. Strife was smiling as well.

“Why did you start working as a Radio Host?” he asked, genuinely wanting to know.

“Well, I started working at Radio 7 as a part-time job over the summer, but then the old host moved countries, and they decided to hire me full-time because they liked the sound of my voice,” Strife told the short story, Kirin nodding throughout it.

Without thinking, Kirin said dreamily, “I like your voice.”

“I- uh, thank you?” Strife frowned, slightly confused. Kirin coughed, starting to feel red, embarrassed. He quickly excused himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom, yes, the bathroom, no, it was not a way to leave an awkward situation. Strife watched as Kirin quickly hurried inside the Caffè del Grembo, and straight into the men’s bathroom.

The bathroom was surprisingly empty. Kirin quickly went towards the mirror, looking at himself, seeing his face was as red as a beet. His heart was pounding, he felt so nervous, so embarrassed, he felt so _human_. He felt so _real_. 

The feeling was so exhilarating. He felt himself enjoy every second of it, somehow, feeling like this. But he needed to compose himself. He breathed in, and out, and  feeling giddy on the inside but needing to have a façade of calm, because he was on a date William Strife.

He then exited the bathroom, feeling himself recomposed, and then went back to his seat. Strife was drinking his cappuccino now, it having obviously been handed to him while Kirin was in the bathroom.

“Sorry,” he said, taking his seat again, “Where were we?”

“We were playing the question game, I believe,” Strife replied.

“Oh, yes, right.,” Kirin fumbled, shaking slightly as he drank some of his own coffee, a latte, “Why did you come to the city?” Excellent. A conversation not about Strife’s voice. This would make less awkward small talk, Kirin was sure of it.

“Well, my uncle, Xeph, he’s a lecturer in astrophysics at the local uUniversity, he offered me a place to stay after my Father threw me out,” Strife explained, his voice tensing at the last few words. Kirin, instead of his usual curious self, decided not to pry into what he did exactly to anger his father so.

“My turn.” Strife changed his tone dramatically, sounding much like before, “How did you come to the city?”

Kirin wanted to say he was a Sidhe Lord. That he helped create the very foundations and core of the city, the city was his child, and he was tied to it in a way not even a muse could be. Yet he didn’t. Instead, he only told a half-truth, the same half-truth he told to anybody who would ask that question. “I came here looking to set up shop, and I’ve been here ever since.”

The words felt more bitter than when he normally said them.

Strife smiled, his smile innocent and young, and then he glanced at his wristwratch. His face changed from being amused to surprise. “Me-oh-my, would you look at the time! I better get going now, or I’ll be late for my meeting with station management. You know how they are.” He chuckled slightly, standing up and looking Kirin directly in the eye.

“Same time next week, perhaps?” Strife suggested, rubbing the back of his head, looking slightly flustered.

Kirin smiled. He found it so adorable that Strife was flustered, and the fae felt warm again in his heart.

“It’s a date.”


End file.
